Twisted: The Story of a Murderer
by Dreksler
Summary: A mysterious Dunmer joins the Dark Brotherhood in the 3E 430.Follow Mhezsura as she goes through the trials and traditions that these assassins hold dear- but what happens when a traitor becomes the man she loves.  AU, with OC character. Please review!
1. Prologue

**3rd Era, 411- Somewhere in the Ashlands**

**Pain wracked her body, raging along her spine like wildfire. Streams of fervent Dunmeri curses ran loose on her tongue, into the frigid air- she held onto a callused hand, squeezing tightly around stubby fingers. The man grunted in pain, but otherwise stifled it. Beads of sweat travelled down her long face, as she panted in agony. Then, the heave- she screamed.**

**Horribly, as she gave birth; her screams landing heavily onto the girl's ears. Her hair was done up, pretty, yet some strands were set loose across her small cheek. Small tears gathered in her big, round eyes as she watched Mummy give her a little sister (or brother, she wasn't quite sure yet). Never had she seen such pain. And so much blood. There was so much blood- it began to pool slightly around her naked toes. It was warm. It was wrong. She recoiled, landing in a rough heap near the hearth. Some sparks fell about, drowning in the red-drink.**

**The giggling of a baby rang out, into their tired heads- it thrashed playfully as it was picked up, by a greying midwife. The creases in her face folded thoughtfully, as she snipped the umbilical cord quickly. She looked down at Niikira, who wheezed hard. Her dark skin was unusually pale, and she had lost a lot of blood. Niikira's face lightened slightly, when she saw the child's beaming, little face- it's red eyes skirting around curiously at the bloody mess down below. Niikira reached her long hand forward, desperate to touch this strange, little creature. Not once, had the little baby whined... instead, it cooed when her thin fingers brushed across its broad forehead.**

**Niikira di'Tevel died, fifteen minutes later.**

**The baby was a girl.**

**A coffin was brought out from the house tent.**

**And it was occupied.**


	2. 1: The Beginning

**3E 429- Cyrodiil**

**Name of Offender: **

Fetchin' Dunmer is a crap liar- she's godsdamn stubborn- continu-osly (not quit' sure how it's spelt) says her name is Mhezsura Sonnerset, from Khuluu. I think it's bullshit personally, but this job aint's no democracy, issit?

**Age of Offender: **

I dun't know, but I'm gonna guess about twennie. With elfs, you jus' dun't know, do ya?

**Race of Offender: **

Issit necess'ry? Fine- she's a Dunmer wench from Morrow- frickin' wind.

**Crime: **

Theese questions are annoyin'- she was foun' in the back of them- uh, seller-traveller-tradar caravan thingies. Had no pass, so's we nicked her there and then for getting 'cross the border without one. Duh!

**Sentence: **

I'd say, mayb' a few weeks in the Big Jail- godsdamn rat'ole- righ' across from Dreth. That oughtta make that littl' bastard 'appy... fo' a while.

* * *

**The Imperial Prison, 3E 429- 29. Evening Star**

"**Le' me go, you Imperial fe'chers! Your going to go to the darkes' dep'hs of Oblivion!" screamed a young Dunmer woman, desperately kicking her bare, muddied feet around as two Legion soldiers held down her arms. Her small fists were clenched tight, as she was forced down the dingy, cold corridor. "You Imperial bas'ards!" she screeched, as a rusty gate was rushed open by a heavily gloved hand.**  
"**Here you go, princess. Enjoy," said a gruff voice, which leered gruesomely into her face. His hand, cloaked in steel, clutched her ponytail painfully and shoved her onto the floor. She scrambled, like a feral animal with pent-up rage, up onto the worn soles of her small feet- and tried to run at them, her nails bared. Instead, she got a brutal kick to her stomach, making her keel over on the bitter, concrete floor. The rusted swing of the gate and the turning of a key rang clear in her clouding mind. **

**A few small hours later into a bright dawn, small flecks of orange and pink shone along the rough, cold walls- she sat, with her knees to her large chest, her hands curled in the dark, ebony tresses of her long hair.**  
"**Hey! Yeah, you! Over here!" hissed a small voice, from across the silent corridor- her eyes perked up slightly, before running over to the bars. She put her small hands around the steel bars, her dirty face being greeted by torchlight as she peered through. "Who is it?" she whispered harshly across the small chasm.**  
"**It's someone who wants to get inside your pants," said a horribly husky voice- the gaunt face of a Dunmer appeared from the darkness of his cell. Clothed in rags, no shoes on dainty feet, with a sneer wrapped across his face.**

"**Yeah, not happening mis'er" she replies, with the bitter taste of anger running on her tongue.**

"**You should have fun before... well, you die", he said with a faux-sweetness coming across his sharp face.**

"**Urgh! Go find some slapper, you s'wit!" she cried, turning her back to him.**

"**Aw, the little girl is frigid. It's okay, I won't be that rough!" he leered, his voice running through her head loudly. Something clicked inside her, as she stood still, staring coldly down into the floor.**

* * *

**Meanwhile, up above, some Legion soldiers sat at a small table- their helmets were down, as they chucked back a few meads. Silver swords were strung to their hips, clanging ever so slightly against their iron thighs. They were enjoying the pleasant silence for a change.**  
"**God, did you see that Dunmer wench?" a Redguard said, his voice hushed slightly.**  
"**Yeah- my ears still hurt, from that" chuckled an Imperial, who lifted a mead bottle to his skinny lips. The burst of laughter echoed around the room, the Redguard held his sides. Until, loud rants could be heard.**

"**Shit!"**

* * *

**Guards rushed down the steps, each behind the other, as they withdrew their swords. Rushed breaths tumbled out of their mouths, as they came across the scene. **

"**You mo'herfucking sonofabe'ch! Someone's goin' to cut your fuckin' 'ed off! Nuh! Bet'er- I will ge' ya and string ya up by ya en'rails!" Mhezsura screamed her voice a roar in their ears.**

**Opening the gate, they hurried her, kicking and screaming down the corridor into another block of the jail. Her screams pierced the darkness around them, as two guards restrained her into an old, rickety chair. Tying her arms down, on fragile wood handles, as her sight became more blurry and dashed. She barely saw a scrawny man coming through, the whiteness of his armour blaring proudly- _too proudly-_ into her closing eyes. She saw the Uniforms go away, with fear scrunched across their small, pinched faces. Her jaw clenched, as a dirty hand grabbed her jaw- long nails ripped into her delicate skin.**  
"**So, you're the bitch causing trouble?" asked a voice, fuzzy in her ears.**  
"**Yeh," she defiantly replied to the shape in front of her- a hooked nose peered out slightly away from his square head.**

**_His big, fat head._**

**His face stretched into an ugly scowl, and then thinking better of it, Audens Avidius slapped her. Hard. Across her cheek. And again, and again and again. Her biting tears pattered the floor, furiously, whilst Auden's tiny forehead began to sweat a lot. He wrenched her small face ruthlessly back up from the floor, and proceeded to scuff his large nails across her face. She screamed. He laughed, his hearty laughs echoing across the cavernous walls.**

**Another day- another change to the routine of pain he put her through. At first, there was only slapping. Hard slapping, that nearly made the ancient chair topple over. Then, the grazing- sometimes he did it slightly lighter than the vicious slaps, sometimes he drew blood. Now, he began to punch her. In the stomach. By evening, dribbles of blood and congealed vomit were hanging tightly around her sharp chin. All night, she wailed like a little girl- trying to rock herself to sleep. **

**Next day, He came back. And He did bad things to Mhezsura- nobody heard her screams. **


	3. 2: Snapped

**19. Morning Star, 3E 430**

**Another bright morning, in the Imperial Prison- Mhezsura stared down at the floor at a small crack. It ran from under her blood-soaked foot to the Door He came through every day. She twisted her head slightly in morbid curiosity as her red blood filled into the black crack. She chuckled slightly, as a little pain struck her crumpled nose.**  
"**Me nose, i' hur'z now. Where's the Man?" she said, her breath ragged, lifting her head to look at the Door. The notches of age were etched into the splintered wood, the little fractures running down to the small stone step below. It opened, and He came in. Mhezsura immediately straightened up in her chair, drawing her knees together - a wide smile played along her lips, as she saw the fine glint of tarnished, iron manacles. That smile deflated slightly when she saw an evil smile approach across Avidius's lips.**  
"**Come now, dearie. I will hurt you, unless-"he said, his hands waving about as he spoke. Mhezsura's thick smile turned into a hard line across her mouth, her red eyes glaring at his ice-blue.**  
" '**Unless'. Nice word, I t'ink. Bu' I ain't gotta choice, du I?" she replied. He glared. And struck her around the face, with the manacles, the little chains crackling in her ears**

**A tuft of blood cracked against the rough cell wall, her head completely moved to her right- Sonnerset didn't cry. Her face stung, yet no tears were set free. Instead, she felt cold. _Lone'y? No, no, no, tha's not i'. _Now, she didn't feel cold.**

**Now, she felt empty.**

**And Audens didn't like it- no more fun but straight to the point, he couldn't get anything out of her, if she was numb. _And now, it seems the bitch is dumb as well_, he thought, as the icy stillness around them became even more frozen. She lifted her head up, matted strands of black hair waving across her face, crusty blood stains creasing slightly at the corners of her mouth.**  
"**Le's play a lit'le game" Mhezsura said a malicious glint in her large eyes. The Door slammed shut, with a shake gliding across the dark walls. And they were alone. Audens blinked-just once- and when he opened his beady eyes, Sonnerset was gone. **

**The rope was undone... it was ripped apart. Savagely. Audens gulped, loudly.**

"**Here's how t'e game works. I ask- ya ansver. Ya ansver wrong, and ya ge' it. You ansver right...ya ge' it. " rang out her voice, indifferent to his agitation. He reached for his sword, down at his side, only to find it gone.**  
"**Tu', tu', tu'- can' have tha' now, "she asked, in a little girl's innocent voice.**  
"**Why should I have to explain myself, bitch?" shouted Avidius, twirling around carelessly. A stabbing pain breached his side- howling, Avidius, grabbed her stuck wrist, and tried to push her away.**  
"**Here. Hav' ya sword," she said, finally, twisting the blade into his stomach. A short cry later, and he was dead. A stone-cold corpse, just lying on the ground, the red-drink pouring from his stomach over his arm, like a bouquet of poppies. She tilted her head, and dipped a finger in the congealing blood.**

"**Pretty cool nuh? Bye-bye, 'cause the little bird's finally out!" she shrieked, with almost childish glee. "How tho'?" she thought aloud, turning towards the door. She took a look back; at her first victim. She smiled happily and left. Well, more precisely, she opened the door-carefully- and ducked her head out. Left. Right. The corridor was clear so she left. Her feet were clumsy, they were frozen; just to keep balance, she had to hold onto the concrete walls. Sack-cloth rubbed against the stone, getting a little dusty- her frizzy, dark hair bounced. **

**Her feet began to prickle slightly, the pain numb to her; the slip and slide of her hand against the wall, as she walked more steadily. Mad ravings ran in the air, above her head, but she brushed them aside- _hope t'ey burn_, she thought as the flicker of torchlight lashed across her face. She squinted harshly, the orange searing her eyeballs; blinded slightly, she continued to stumble down the corridor. **

**Her right hand was grasping thin air as she trailed slowly out, dragging her left foot behind her. _Thank the Nine for li'tle mercies, _she thought as she saw an open door. It certainly was a pain to open as it was made out of pure iron. Panting slightly, she began to quicken the pace as her sharp ears could hear the clattering of a guard's keys. Then it stopped- _phew. _She warped her head around quickly, only to see a shocked Imperial. She held her breath and froze.**

**"You do know I can see you, right? And that freezing ain't going to help much?" said the Imperial, in a distinct Niben accent. Blonde wavy hair were like curtains across his broad forehead, which folded now with concern. His shocked look had become slack, instead becoming more relaxed.  
"A'int ya goin' to ge' me?" Mhezsura said, straightening herself up slightly- her right hand clenched into a tiny fist.  
"You poor thing. Avidius was a sick bastard; hurting a thing like you," the blonde guard consoled.  
"What'cha mean a 'poor thing' like me, huh?" _I dun't need pity, espekially from ya!  
_"Avidius was evil. I hope you got him good. Fixed him proper." The guard continued, walking closer to her.**

**She flinched backwards, readying herself for a backhand slap across the face. Instead, she felt her right hand being taken and something being thrust into her hand. A small, rusty key- about the length of her index finger- rested squarely in her palm. She looked back up, into the Imperial's apple-green eyes.  
"Well," said the Imperial guard. Mhezsura cracked a small, genuine smile- "the easiest exit is through the sewer crate in the North Sector. Over your shoulder. This key will get ya in," he finished. Mhezsura twisted her head around, her dark eyes following down the length of the corridor. A sewer grate squatted on the floor, hung in shadow, about a couple of yards down. She looked back to him and gave a quick, small nod. **

**"Get to it then woman- you don't have all day. If it helps, you don't have to worry about Avidius or Dreth'-_Dreth?_-'they'll be handled with. Especially Dreth," the guard said with a shuddering of malice throughout his body. **

**Mhezsura didn't question him. She hurtled down the corridor; the harsh slaps of her bare feet across dirty-grey tiles, loud in the holy silence shrouding the corridor. She doubled over and slammed the key into the tarnished lock, slightly glinting in the torchlight. Fumbling, she cursed under her breath. **

**Crack. **

**Her ears perked up sharply in alarm. _Kaoc!_ Her fingers wrapped around the key firmly, and pierced into the lock again. She tried to push the lock open but she couldn't. The mechanism would not engage. Peering down through the darkness, she realised something. **

**She had been turning the wrong way. _Stupid!_**

**Jiggling the key to her right, she could hear the pins disengage and loosen. She felt the lock fall off into her hand; and the sewer grate clatter as she peeled it up from the floor. Without a care, Mhezsura slipped through- and fell into the darkness below as the lid slammed shut above.**


	4. 3: Something Wicked This Way Comes

**THE BLACK HORSE COURIER- **

**20. Morning Star, 3E 430**

A heinous act of brutal savagery was committed inside the Imperial Prison this morning- Valen Dreth, a prisoner, was found in his cell... dead. The way in which he was killed is far too gruesome to detail; better to leave that to the Imperial Legion to disclose at the proper time.

A large-scale investigation is being launched by Guard Captain Adamus; to not only find the killer [who many say have delivered a great service unto the Imperial City] but also to probe security concerns at the Prison.

Also the Imperial Legion has refused to comment on the disappearance of Guard Captain Audens Avidius despite numerous rumours of his murder at the hands of a prisoner. Sources close to the Black Horse say whoever the killer is, they might be related to both crimes.

Well, as always, to our readers: be careful on the streets.

Because:

Evidently something wicked this way comes.

* * *

**Cold sunlight danced across dew-covered leaves, the freezing air piercing slightly into her dirty-grey skin. Her eyes darted open, flicking wildly left and right, as she felt someone watching her. Sighing, she twisted herself up lazily- to meet a dark figure, head down, dressed in black, flowing robes. It was an edgy silence between Mhezsura and the Stranger- she glared at him. **"**Who the fuck ar' ya?" She said loudly, her broad shoulders straightening slightly. Her teeth gritted together, getting more annoyed when said figure didn't respond. "Bugger off," she said rudely, a little anger curling around her words as she spoke. **

**The shadow tilted its shrouded head, looking like a curious child up to trouble. Then the click of a blade, sliding gently out of a hidden scabbard. Her eyes went wide, as the nasty glint of silver resounded through the air- _damn it, do somethin'! - _a voice inside her head screamed. Time seemed to slow down, as the figure shifted quickly forward at her; adrenaline coursed through her veins, her heart pumping loudly in her ears. She ducked. The swish of a blade barely above her head, where her throat had been. **

**Mhezsura, with fury boiling in her veins, aimed a kick to the Stranger's crotch- she released her foot, charging with vicious intent through the air. Her right foot was caught in the Stranger's gruff grip- she tried jerking it away, but its shrouded nails dug into her ankles. She screamed, as the figure tripped her up- she landed square onto her back with a nasty crunch. **

**She tried to lift her head up; until she felt the cold edge of the Stranger's blade against her throat. Mhezsura gasped and froze.**

"**A little game, I thought you might like," said a coarse voice, tickling her ear gently. **"**You killed someone... about three hours ago'- his voice sounded so educated, so strange to her ears-'so, I've come to offer a unique opportunity... to join our 'family' ".**  
"**What'cha mean? Oh..." Mhezsura finally caught on. Ancient rumours swam through her mind- "**_they say, when you kill someone, the Dark Brotherhood visit you... they ask you to join their insidious 'family', their business as it is...cult of assassins...cold-blooded murderers... terrifying"._  
"**What do you say?" said the voice, a hint of subtle impatience in it. She had already made up her mind, and with a little note of glee, she said: "The ansver's yes." She could feel his smile, as his blade pulled away. The figure offered a hand to her-she took it and was lifted to her feet. **

**He was Dunmer- in fact, he didn't look too old. He was older than her, no doubt, but he seemed to have a reserved calm about it- in Morrowind (_particularly Khuluu_), age almost defined how you were treated. _Ya ge' looked a' like a slu'_, she thought bitterly. Oiled curls were coifed effortlessly down the sides of his face- Mhezsura was jealous, if not angry at herself. Her hair was coarse, brittle-in short, dead. Then again, she was strapped to a chair, in a dingy room, in a hellhole that even Mehrunes Dagon would find evil- and He was evil! No wrinkles lined his face, or his nose- which was like a small button- and he had thin, black lips. Not terribly attractive, but _hell be'ter than anyt'ing I ever had in my bed._**

"**To join the Dark Brotherhood, you must do this: eliminate another person. Whether you have a beef with them, or not... I don't give a fuck, as long as it's done. Or not. That depends on you, Miss Sonnerset." said the mystery man.** **He began to walk away, into the fast approaching storm.**

** Cold patters of rain began to paint her cheeks cold, so she moved under a tree- thick, deep-green leaves shivering above the black nest of her matted hair, yet she paused to think. Who could she kill? The Dark Brotherhood was infamous, but back when she was a young girl, living in her aunt's farm, she used to dream about assassins. And secret missions. And strangely, cheese. Back to point, she had to think of someone. Anyone. At all. **

**_T'ink, t'ink - _****she thought. **

**She thought for hours. She thought as she wondered the Nibenay Valley- fought her way through the thick green bushes, with the golden sun beating harshly down onto her. **

**Late in the afternoon; a cracked wooden sign was laying against a small stone wall- looking closer in curiosity, Mhezsura could see 'Green Road' in faint, flowery script. Following the sign, she could see a long, paved road [in disrepair] stretching for miles. **

**Mhezsura sighed deeply.  
"What is wrong with this hunter? Tired?" said a feline voice. Mhezsura turned her head around to rest her eyes on a Khajiit woman. Gentle, brown plaits of hair dangled underneath her large ears and her bright, green eyes were cloaked in shadow as the sun beat onto her brown-ginger fur. A large snout poked out of her head- with a squat, little mouth pried into a small sneer. With a proud flick of her tail, the Khajiiti female sauntered past Mhezsura. **

**She wore a tender, light-teal dress around her hips that stretched down to her ankles. Small spatters, shaped like stars, of classic green shimmered in the sun- a very green shirt clung to her breasts and shoulders and arms. Tiny, little cloth bracers clenched around her wrists- a golden lace belt lined her waist, pulling in her voluptuous frame.**

**That golden lace would wrap around her neck and choke her to death. Her eyes would lose their vibrant colour and glaze over. Her teal dress would be scuffed with mud and blood. She would eventually be found... perhaps in a week or so, stuffed in a ditch by the roadside. People would think she fell and broke her neck. **

**_Poor kit'y._**

**Nobody would be the wiser.**


	5. 4: For It Is A Knell

**"I dun't s'pose you're here for a chat, ar' ya?" sighed Mhezsura, staring blankly up at the ceiling. No reply from the stranger, only a solemn flourish of its gloved hands. She turned her head, the gentle bristling of her hair soft in her ears- only to be met with an Imperial face. Creased slightly with age around the mouth, but he had long hair._ Black or brown, _she thought. "So?" she asked, with an irksome quirk of her right eyebrow. **

**"My name is Lucien Lachance, my sister'-_sis'er?-_' unfortunately, Speaker Uvani couldn't make it." he spoke, with an eloquent calmness in his voice._ He's a charmer- mus' be how he gits his kicks. _"Seeing as you have committed the act, you are now officially part of the Dark Brotherhood. You are now bound by the Five Tenets, which if broken- well, you get the picture."  
"Lemme guess... I'll ge' i', righ'?" Mhezsura asked, with a tinge of boredom rendering her voice flat.  
"A nice, gory 'getting'." Lucien replied, his voice hard. "Which is a speciality of mine - now, back to the matter at hand'_- his spekiali'y? Int-eresting-' _seeing as you are new; I want you to meet the rest of your new family. Here." **

**He pulled a small slip of parchment from a pocket, and flicked it over to her- the parchment was old, but written on it were clear directions. Also: '**Sanguine, my Brother**' was written in a posh scrawl, along the cracked bottom of the page. _'Just south of Skingrad, in a forest clearing, near the border'... I'm gonna get los'. Kaoc! _She looked up, only to find him gone. Only a cold, empty space lit slightly with moonshine. **

**_Figures, huh?_**

* * *

**_Bloody hells, where was i' again? Where's south? Mara's ass!_**

**Mhezsura jogged down the dirt path, the midday sun beating down onto her cheeks. She still wore her ragged outfit, but she had managed to clean it at midday, in a small dyke. Trees shot up around her, the leaves casting shadows onto her- a small bead of sweat slipped down between her eyes. It was a warm day, and yet as she jogged along... she began to feel colder and colder. The hairs on the back of her neck raised, as she heard a loud snap. She stopped and turned. Nothing.**

**_Mightn't it be somet'ing in the bushes? _**

**Snap- another twig broken.**

**Rustle- something moved.**

**Something black shifted from tree to tree effortlessly. Like a long, curling wraith with its cloak whistling through the still air. _Nuh! T'ey is trying to scare me off the buggers. What was that password? Hm...  
"_Sangu'ne, my Bro'her" Mhezsura said. The forest became still again, only the churning of the leaves above in her ears. She turned forwards, to be met by a whole clan of people. Different shapes and sizes and colours melded into one- _T'e Dark Bro'herhood._  
A small wood-elf stepped forward, his crooked hands resting on his hips. He sighed dramatically at her- _tsk! Like the wood-el' can talk- _his apple-green eyes flickering up and down her small frame.  
"I see." he said, his voice gravelly. _Looking at me like that- who's he think he is? Urgh!  
A wood el' without a w'ittle squeeky voice tho'...  
_"Lachance, do your thing." Ungolim ordered, walking silently back into the shadowy-black mass. **

**Lucien stepped forwards, the chink of a silver blade at his side- _xhuth! Wha's he doing? _Her fingers wrapped in a cold sweat struggled to move. They began to clench. Lachance smiled thickly. Then he disappeared, on the spot. **


	6. 5: Family

**_Bloody Imperial bas'ard! What the fuck, can I do now? He's cer'ainly quick, I give 'im tha'- hopefully, I migh' be able to use tha', hm?_**

**Mhezsura whipped around, at the sound of leaves bristling behind her- strings of her matted, dirty hair were flung over her shoulders, and her bloodshot eyes. Skirting her left foot across the ground, she pulled into a wide stance; clenched fists drawn in front of her face. Something shimmered faintly to her right. She had no time.**

**Except to only be tripped over by Lachance, who with a flick of a black finger, dispelled his chameleon- he smirked as Mhezsura's teeth gnashed tightly in her mouth. She smiled. A wide smile, which lifted up her sharp cheekbones and narrowed her large eyes. He irked his head to the left, curiosity swimming thick in his hazel eyes. A sharp snap to his left knee brought him down, with a groan, onto his stomach- Mhezsura's ankle strained slightly, as she got up onto her feet. Lucien coiled slightly on the ground, holding his knee. She leaned down to his face, her eyes surging with anger.  
"Serves ya right, you s'wit"- she breathed, her nails biting sharply into the palm of her hand. Lucien looked downwards, at his belt- then, he smiled at her. A little twinkle in his eye. _Fuck! _He grabbed her hair, and threw her over his shoulder- into a tree.  
"Sticks and stones wun' break my bones, 'Lachance'." She teased, her eyebrows creasing thickly into a scowl as she pulled herself up.  
"But a blade can cut you in half." murmured Lucien, running up to her with his sword in hand. She ducked her head- **_shunk! _**The sword sank into the cracked bark; Mhezsura snuck under his legs, her shoulder bleeding slightly into her rag top. **

**She paused to catch her breath- a fist slammed into the side of her head. Flung to the ground, onto her stomach. The chink of a blade-_xhuth!-_rendered the air a frosty silence. Her head being pulled up, by the hair, by a rough hand- a husky voice whispered down into her ear: "Never trust anyone."  
Mhezsura's face was empty. No expression. She didn't care about how that orc was looking at her amazed... or how that little, blonde girl dressed in a little black cape gaped at her. Mhezsura smiled. Gleefully. A thought popped into her head. Glancing left slightly, she saw a thick boot- _cowskin? netch?- _moving her eyes up the boot, she noticed a small scabbard. Fitting snug inside, a blade. She flicked her eyes away, and looked up. Craning her neck slightly, as a blade stretched across her gullet.  
"Let's play a li'tle game," she asked, a toothy grin from right to left. **

**She bit his hand...hard enough to draw blood. Twisted herself around. Grabbed his throat, her fingers curling around the thick veins. Smashed her head with his- Lucien was dazed for a second. She pounced onto the ground, her hands splashing in the dirt-avoiding his wide swing. She tumbled around wildly, onto her bare feet. Lucien stared at her. _Trying to figur' out me next move, is he? Yeah, he is... Mara's tits! _She braced herself, her hand clenching tightly around the small, silver dagger. **

**"You have passed, sister" Lachance had the ghost of a smile encroach across his lips. A round of applause rang through the air, especially from the blonde girl.  
"That was brilliant! By Sithis, that was exciting! How did you-" Blondie blurted out, her voice light and frail. Mhezsura turned around to meet her-shock still plastered along her mouth. Her blonde hair looked like straw, yet it framed her face nicely. Crisp blue eyes. Skinny, peach lips. She was hushed by a taller wood-elf; her head covered by a leathery hood.  
"Sorry about that, sweetie- Antoinetta can get a little excited." The wood-elf said, her voice like sweet honey to Mhezsura's ears. _"_My name's Telaendril- it's very nice to finally meet you, Mhez-zu-" Telaendril fumbled over her name, her forehead creasing over in frustration. Mhezsura looked to her.  
"Just call me Mez, eh?" Mhezsura said, smiling warmly for a change. An irritated, cat-like snarl echoed from within the clan- Ungolim groaned, his stubby fingers caressing his small nose bridge. Mhezsura frowned slightly- _wha's tha'?  
"_Unsophisticated Dunmer whore" a Khajiit whispered harshly under his breath. Thick, long whiskers brushed along his snout. Orange blotches for fur, sharp claws on the end of feline fingers.  
"At leas' I dun't leck my own ass" Mhezsura replied, stiffly. The fur on M'raaj-D'ar's hands began to curl with quiet fury, as his sharp canines clicked in the air. She snorted with amusement. M'raaj-D'ar snapped at her, scratching her left cheek with a claw. Her head flew back slightly, as Telaendril looked on shocked. The wood-elf grabbed her shoulders, and drew her close-protecting her.  
"Righ', you have a par'y tri'k.,"said Mhezsura calmly. Drew her head up, neatened her hair. And kicked him in the balls. She smirked... then grabbed harshly by Lucien, and guided into the thick crowd. _Look at 'im- helping the alley ca'. The res' of them dun't seem upset- happy mayb', but cer'ainly not bo'hered. And am I bothered? Am I bothered? No, I ain't bothered...one bi'. _**

**A large, green orc stepped forward- his face was wrenched into an ugly smile. _A warm one, but still butt ugly.  
_"My name's Gogron, sister. Nice to meet ya," he said in a gruff voice. "I wish I could hug you, but Ocheeva'- he flourished an arm towards a female Argonian-' told me not to. Might bre'k ya bones" he laughed merrily, his knobbed fingers clutching his big chest. Mhezsura gleamed. The female Argonian came over, along with another in tow- she smiled thickly, showing neat rows of tiny but sharp teeth. He nervously looked down, at the ground.  
"My name'ss Ocheeva. Thiss iss my twin, Teinavaa" Ocheeva introduced. Bright reds, oranges and soft blues melded together along her thick scales- neon-green shadows around her cold eyes. Mhezsura stared at Teinavaa, curiosity stretched across her eyebrows. Teinavaa chuckled slightly, and ducked his small head from under his dark hood. The black hood enveloped most of his head- she could see dark scales crust over his snout. **

**Ungolim had wondered away from a swearing M'raaj-Dar into the far distance. Some of the clan had moved along with him along the dirt path leading to nowhere. Ocheeva saw this and with a predatory smile at Lachance, walked towards Ungolim.**

**Pangs of jealousy struck her chest with heavy blows, as she trudged along with her new 'brothers' and 'sisters'- on the outside, she was smiling with delight. On the inside, she felt even more alone. Even more jealous. Even more angry. Lucien stared into the back of her head- **_so much wrath. I better tell Vincente to be careful with this one...perhaps, train her even more. Otherwise, she will have no chance at survival in this business- as well as no chance to advance. _**He smirked, the cold gears in his head churning possibilities- and likely outcomes. Along with a little help from the rest of The Black Hand, he could make her infamous.**

**Infamous. She yearned for it. For her name, Mhezsura Sonnerset, to be the name to send shivers down peoples' spines. To make them drop their smokes and stare at her, as she sashayed past. Hate. Loneliness. Anger. Ambition. No moral code to speak of.**

**The recipe for the perfect assassin.**


	7. 6: The Great Beyond

All characters and places (apart from my OC, Mhezsura Sonnerset) are property of Bethesda Softworks- also, spoilers for those who have not finished the Dark Brotherhood guild quests; however this is an AU as well.

Well, back to the story...

* * *

**Reds and pinks spilled into the darkening skyscape above- and the wind began to blow into Mhezsura's face slightly harder. Leaves coiled around, in tight circles; always staying away from Lucien's billowing black robes, like a shadow in torchlight. Telaendril's light-brown hair bounced on the harsh breeze, unfurling itself from a tight ponytail- Gogron had wrapped his hand around the Bosmer's waist, whispering sweet nothings into her sharp ears. She giggled, making Mhezsura feel worse. So much worse.**

**A little hand tugged gently on her shoulder- Mhezsura turned her head around lazily, to be met with Antoinetta's bright smile. A harsh glint of red spilled into her eyes, making her squint slightly. _Is she on Sujamma? No wait- must be Skooma... she's so hyper. Like some sor' of child; mus' be how she gets her kicks. Acts like a innocent, little girl... only to stab them in the back. Might use that meself. _" What's wrong, Antoinetta? " Mhezsura asked, her voice laced with false concern.  
"Just call me, 'Netta" Antoinetta said simply, her voice fragile. _Aw- she's cute. Like a little kid. I might as well be nice to her. Just this once. And only to her, perhaps? Nah- ti's unfair to the o'hers. _" You know, I imagined you as a Dunmer-' Antoinetta said confidently.  
"Really?" _Wait... what? What am I feeling? Am I feeling... attached? By Akatosh's arse... oh great! At least insulting the Nine gets easier...  
"_Yeah. Only because Lucien told us so." Antoinetta finished, gleaming over at Lucien. Mhezsura began to laugh. And cry. And laugh-cry, whilst Lucien walked beside her, looking bemused. Antoinetta's smile turned into a tight line across her mouth, worry flashing through her ice-blue eyes. Mhezsura cackled playfully, her laughs ringing in their ears. M'raaj-D'ar scowled. Telaendril shook her head, trying not to laugh along with her. Gogron was bewildered. Ocheeva began to chortle along with her.**

**A clan of assassins, most dressed in tight leather, laughing- _people would think we were insane. Perhaps we are?  
_**

**_

* * *

_**

**The twisted roots of a giant oak cast shadows around them- the air frigid. The white clouds of steam huffed from Mhezsura's mouth floated downwards, to the solid mud below. Her bare feet were numb as the mud cracked underneath; the stars glimmered behind her, sitting close to the moons. One blood-red... one ice-white. _Pretty colours, me thinks._ Her ears pricked slightly, as the sound of metal grated against stone. Sharply turned her head round. Only to see a gaping, black hole in the trunk of the tree. Her ears perked up slightly, in question. Lucien held up a finger, his mouth shut- _freaky. He's so pale in the moonslight. What am I like? _**

**Gogron went first, clammering up to the hole- looked down a long drop and sighed. "This is gunna hur', innit?" He said, looking at Lucien. The Imperial just nodded. No words. Gogron sighed again- Telaendril ran up to him, grabbing his large hand in hers. She smiled and gave him a small chaste kiss. His grin went from left to right. Then they stepped forward. Plunging into the darkness below. Jealousy struck Mhezsura again- her heart freezing over slightly. **_Interesting, _**Lucien thought. **_Most of the recruits by now like to be in The Family- yet she still has reservations about it. __Clever._

**M'raaj D'ar hissed at Mhezsura; his bright-orange eyes frozen over with hatred. Then surprise, as Antoinetta shoved him angrily down the hole. Antoinetta jumped down, her right knee jutted out slightly in front. The small, green scales around Ocheeva's eyes hitched up with slight exasperation- Teinavaa simply walked up to the hole and dropped. Without a care. Ocheeva ran after him, chattering in Argonian tongue.**

**An uncomfortable silence washed over Ungolim, Lucien and Mhezsura- Ungolim's eyes flickered left and right, at their faces. They merely looked deeply at each other's eyes. Blood-red. Hazel-brown. Frozen over. Narrowed. She merely lifted her chin and walked. To the person-sized hole. Dust hung like a cloud in the air, making her splutter and cough slightly. And her eyes water a little. **

**She flung herself down. **

**Her black hair flew backwards as she fell; narrow walls, twisted with old vines and cragged crooks soon widened into a large chamber. As she kept falling, she could hear a loud whistling beside her. Ungolim was falling with her, as well as Lachance. _Brilliant! How long is this bloody drop? 'Cause I 'ope- _gurglings erupted from below. _Wa'er? _The walls of the cylinder chamber began to constrict, water churning against it- white spray spitting into her face. She screwed her eyes tight, drawing her spread arms and legs into a tight, little bundle- and waited. Her bare flesh scraped against the outer-_metal?-_walls; her hair got damp. And it became darker and darker and darker still-until darkness was all she could feel around her. Bubbles cascaded from her mouth, dull in colour. She opened her eyes, red flickering lights pouring down from high above. Dragging herself onto the stony shore, hissing as the cold bit harshly into her bare back, she looked around. A huge door was in front of her- ancient human scrawls etched across the stone.**

**A small shadow walked past her, it's head bowed in silence. Scraping fingernails along the stone, little sparks flying. Orange eyes in the dark scowled at her, then yelped angrily as Mhezsura spat in his face. Antoinetta giggled gleefully, and took Mhezsura's arm in hers happily. Mhezsura giggled like a child, Antoinetta returning her a big smile- and they walked into the great beyond.  
**


	8. 7: Beckon To The Void

All characters and places (apart from my OC, Mhezsura Sonnerset) are property of Bethesda Softworks- also, spoilers for those who have not finished the Dark Brotherhood guild quests; however this is an AU as well.

* * *

**_What in hells is this place? _Mhezsura thought, her head twisting and turning around... always noticing something new to look at. The floor was made of thick, ice-white concrete slabs- draped over it was a thick, blood-red carpet. A black hand print was marred across it; _I swear I've seen that before. Where tho'? Wait. _He eyes shifted over to Lucien, who stood beside her. Looking at his left shoulder, she saw a hand print...a black hand print. _Right. Of course.  
_****"This is a Dark Brotherhood charter- one of the original places the Dark Brotherhood operated in, before the Sanctuaries came about**." Lucien said. Mild surprise unfurled itself across Mhezsura's eyebrows, rolling them up like a carpet- _how the fuck did he do that? He prac'ically red my thinkings. I should be more careful.  
"_What's a 'sanctuary'?" she harshly whispered, the flickering of light touching the sharp contours of her face. Lucien smirked, riling her up with slight anger.  
"A sanctuary is where our family members work and live for Sithis'-_Sithis? Who in Oblivion is he? Hopefully, better than Mehrunes Dagon- if not... heck, I don't care.- _"as well as enjoy their successes and...prizes". _Prizes? What prizes? Me like. _Her ears perked up, and her head snapped towards him.  
"What a-are these... 'prizes'?" Mhezsura stuttered slightly, her eyes twinkling a bit.  
"Mostly enchanted, little trinkets for the average contract'-_contract?-_although for the more important contracts... they are usually better." Lucien said. She smiled, like a trickster, at him before being pulled along by Antoinetta.

_An interesting creature. If crossed, well: 'Hell hath no Fury like a woman scorn'd' might justly be applied- but she is also a contradiction... gentler with people she likes. Like Antoinetta. Why? Maybe it's genuine. Maybe it's until they outlive their usefullness...like me. Perhaps she has a hidden face? No. She is a bit greedy, judging from what I said to her about trinkets. That might be useful as a tool to control her. There is no doubt that will be what the Black Hand will worry about when I conclude my report. Hm. Well, no rest for the wicked._

**The middle of a grand hall- large pillars wrapped down from ceiling to floor, covered in string-like vines. A long wall to her right was covered with a mural. A map of Cyrodiil- little crosses marked in every city. Clusters of small scribbles were enclosed in a small, framed area beside the map- 'Don't go to Bravil, it's a shit-hole!' or ' Skingrad's nice for holidays...or money' were some of the common notes. She smirked, a spark of wanderlust lighting up in her chest. As well as pretty things exciting her. Now, she was an assassin.**

**An assassin wanting her first contract. **

**

* * *

**

**Steps pattered along the corridor, little nails scratching against the ground- little whiskers twitched. A new scent floated on Schemer's nose... a fiery scent, with a little rustiness to it. Definitely was a Mer- perhaps Dunmer? He shuddered, remembering the time that bastard Uvani scorched his tail- wasn't his fault that the then young Uvani failed a contract. Well, he did want more cheese... and had been pestering Uvani all week for it. That may have been it. Or not. Besides, he was curious. New blood always interested him... and indulged him as well with cheese. He skittered along, little squeaks erupting along his throat. Until he tripped. Onto his back- where he scrambled uselessly, trying to get up. Only to find unfamiliar, rough hands pick him up and fip him onto his back.  
"There you are, little guy. Be careful next time." said a gentle voice, with a slight Morrowing twang. He chittered happily, and jumped up on her. She laughed, stroking his little head. " Right, I have to go now. See you later, okay?" she said, her black hair smooth against her shoulders. He bounced down and ran away, with a spring in his step. He liked her already.**

**

* * *

**

**The eerie creaking of the door woke him from his little nap; a head ducked in, looking left and right. Bright red eyes, like embers met his.  
"There is no need to fear me, child." he said, his sharp fangs sparkling slightly. "My name is Vincente. What's yours, my dear?" he asked, trying to put emotion into his voice. Vincente had really tried, but he could see it didn't work. **Perceptive, **he thought.  
**

**"Mhezsura Sonnerset. I want a contract."**** she said simply, ignoring his dull-red eyes. And his fangs. And his sunken, pale flesh. He merely flecked his eyes over her body, drawing in the lack of muscle mass and rags. She glared at him, her Dunmeri temper rising slightly- the vampire stood up, brushing his dark shirt clean of dust. Tightened his brown pony-tail.  
"Right, and I'm going to send you to Sithis looking like that." Vincente said with disdain, flourishing a small hand towards her- she glared at him. "Oh dear, if only looks could kill- oh wait, I am already dead aren't I?" Vincente quipped, mockingly drawing his face into a thoughtful expression. Her teeth clenched. Vincente sighed dramatically, and shoved a small, wrapped bundle into her hands. "Put that on before you leave at least," Vincente admonished, turning back to his stone slab.**

**She walked away irritated with him- never pausing to see his knowing smirk. Pausing in front of a mirror, she drew a screen around her body- and began to take her clothes off. She hissed as crusty bloodstains clung to the dirty, mangled cloth, and her skin cracked like dry pea pods. As bare as the day she was born, Mhezsura noticed a small bucket hitched in the corner. She dipped a hand in, and sighed as warm water lapped gently around her wrist. She grabbed it with both hands and dunked it on her head. Soap trickling down her ears, down her small waist and spiralling around her ankles. She massaged her head, her fingers running through her long hair. And her arms, trying to get rid of the crusty red-blood spots. And her legs. And her stomach.**

**She whipped her black hair over her shoulders, the long strands hugging into the small of her back- cracking her fingers slightly, she reached towards the small bundle. Untying an ornate bow, made of dark-gold string took little effort- only for Mhezsura to find a suit. A leather suit, dark-red in colour. She raised her eyebrows. But then, she noticed a pair of old scissors in a small alcove. And then her nails. And how manky they were. Dirt was layered in thick clumps under her slightly-curved nail heads. She took the pair of scissors. Began to cut, trying to make her nails like claws- sharp at a point, so she could rake them across someone's face.  
**

** She smiled. _That's better now._  
**

**

* * *

**

**Dawn struck a bell over the Imperial City, the faint chime lost in the sea winds and ship sails that assaulted her ears- Mhezsura's nose wrinkled, as the sharp smell of fish pushed itself up her nostrils. She never did like the coast... or fishing villages for that matter. But she had to be here, in the Imperial Waterfront to do her duty. The target was a pirate, went by the name of Gaston Tussaud- quite famous in the old days, if she heard correctly. _I seriously doub' it, seeing the crappy boat he's got himself. The Marie Elena- sounds like a whore's name. I should know. _Hanging in the shadows, she waited till the sky was a drippy, blood-red pallor- and she moved. Hugging the shadows, she over-heard the loud ramblings of a male pirate. Redguard. His back was to her and he never saw it coming. Slit throat and one down. Plenty to replace him. _A damn shame and so bloody too. Poor bugger, least he went quickly. Oh well. _She flicked his bloody vest open, hearing the chink of metal in her ears. Keys. _Looks like I'm in luck today. Thanks be to Sit...whatever his name was._**

**She sneaked behind some crates, voices above her head talking-well trash as usual. Mostly about the newest prostitute in town, and how big her tits were. _Men. _However, as the conversation continued she noticed a small, wood barrel-the lid undone, with no-one watching nearby. _Suckers. _She crawled over, on all fours like a cat and slipped up to it. Waited a little, bobbing her head up to see if anyone was around. Only a lone beggar-woman, wallowing in her filth was there in a dark enclave. She stood up quickly and folded herself in, like a piece of parchment- her back grazing against the solid wall of the small space. Her feet, covered in tough leather shifted along the bottom of the lid and sealed it over her. **

**And then the wait. **

**

* * *

**

**Finally, the barrage of constant movements stopped. And so did the urge for Mhezsura to retch._ Who would want to live here? Not even rats would wan' to live here. Wha' is that smell? _She shook her head, regaining her focus. Her feet hammered against the lid...only for it to stay still. A slight panic mixed with anger began to heat up across her face, as her feet continued to bang against the lid. The barrel began to tip, and sway along with the waves- bang. It fell over, making the lid crack off...onto a sodden floor, mud slogs caught in little gaps between wooden planks. A sigh of relief came over Mhezsura, but the cold hardness of her mind began to fold over once more.**

**_Let the games begin._  
**


	9. 8: Sonnerset

**"Captain! Where is that man?" barked a woman, her voice sharp. She went by the name of Malvulis- First Mate Malvulis- and looked every inch a Dunmer. Fierce red eyes scanned along the deck of the Marie Elena- patience wearing thin, Malvulis decided to charge Ralph with her post. The Breton did not like this, muttering under his breath angrily- every dark-blond strand of hair on his head began to quiver with hate. Towards her. Malvulis jumped onto the deck, her leather heels clacking slightly- the moorings swayed to and fro, the waves pounding against the ship. She strode across the deck, her feet steady... unlike the grey-bearded Imperial who stumbled past. He smelt of heavy ale. And smoke. That made her nose wrinkle harshly, instead of the rotten fish sun-drying along the Waterfront shores- shaking her head, Malvulis noticed something amiss. **

**Gaston's cabin door was ajar. And there were small tracks of water she felt under her fingernails, as she touched the door frame... except it had a rusty smell. A slippery texture. And a deep- red colour. She thrust open the door with a locked fist- only to find Gaston Tussaud with his insides on the outside. Viscera and gore trickled slowly down from a gaping, open throat- his head was discarded on the floor; a look of horror etched across his eyeballs. His tongue was missing. She took a step forward, only to hear a small croak- her head flickered left to find her Khajiit recruit. His stomach had been punctured thickly, and he was still bleeding out fast. She rushed over, the shock rendering her silent- her hand flew up to cup his face. She looked beside him and could see the mutilated corspe-well, bits of- another sailor. Swallowing quickly as nausea came over her, she heard the Khajiit whisper. Leaning in, she could smell the echo of death on his stinking breath. **

**"So-on-ner-ss-et w-wah-s he-re." And his head dropped, blood running loose from his mouth.**

**And murder she screamed, over the waves, the salty breeze; murder ran like wildfire, making people talk faster. More panicked. And another newspaper denouncing her work. Mhezsura pouted like a little girl as she read the article, a mug of mulled wine to her lips. It called her a monster. A daemon. Something risen from the darkest mouths of Oblivion, and walking on Nirn. In short, it called her an evil bitch. **

**And funnily enough, she didn't give a fuck.  
**


	10. 9: Arquen

Okay, so a little note: this story is an AU (Alternate Universe) so for the purpose of this story, some of the early quests of the Dark Brotherhood storyline have been adapted to occur in the years 430, '31 and '32. All of the later quests (like the deadrops, Adamus Phillida, etc.) will occur in 433. Characters (apart from Mhezsura) and places belong to Bethesda Softworks.

* * *

**"You were right" said an Altmer, a lazy finger swirling around the rim of her wine glass. Above her head, the lights of the chandelier rained down onto her light-gold skin- the brown hairs on her head shone slightly. Not as much as her obvious strawberry blonde roots. She was dressed in a suave, one-piece dress made of ocean-blue silk- her fingernails were painted and there was a hint of blush on her cheeks. Her eyes flickered up to meet his hazel eyes. "Speaker Lachance. When did I see you last, hm? Must have been about a year ago, if my memory serves me right." she spoke, with a fiery edge. **_And a lot of arrogance- explains 'High-Elf'.  
"_**You are correct. The last time we saw each other was in 429. Winter, I believe." Lucien replied, plopping himself into a cosy chair**** opposite her. She took her glass, and downed the drink in one- thick berry taste running along her tongue. **

**"So... how about the new girl, huh? Any good?" the Altmer woman asked, her curiosity piqued. Lucien straightened himself up and leant in towards her.  
"I have to say Arquen, she may be as good as you were. Perhaps better" he whispered into her ear. Arquen chuckled lightly, like he had told her a joke. Inside, she was furious. And jealous.  
"How?'- said in a harsh tone. She coughed-'I mean, how did she do it? I understand it was a pirate she had to..well bump off." she whispered again. **_Curse having to do business in restau-no- feeding holes. It's not easy. _**A crowd of people filed past, most talking loudly- casting Arquen and Lucien sour looks.  
"You should have read the papers, Arquen." Lucien said simply. He stood up, drew his hood over his face and left- leaving Arquen confused, with her mouth agape. She noticed a newspaper, in the far corner of her right eye- she reached out to grab it, instead her hand shaking quickly from left to right. Her worried face became slack with no emotion, and she grabbed the papers- the chitter of crunchy paper crisp. **

**She read**** the title; 'Murder on The Waterfront' and began to read the article in more detail. She slammed it down, her bangs flying up- her teeth gritted. Her shoulders tensed. Her breathing sharpened. And then a hand touched her left shoulder- an old, decrepit hand belonging to a equally old Breton woman. Blonde, wavy hair. Blonde, wavy, bloody hair. The Breton's body slumped over the chair, a look of shock a picture on her face. **

**"MURDER! SOMEON-" cut off with a slice.**

**"GUA-" stabbed through the gut.**

**"KILLE-" a bottle smashed on the head.**

**Finally, Arquen regained herself. Tidied herself up a little. Straightened her bangs. Rested her shoulders, and became lady-like. Then walked out, with a cheer in her step. Nabbed an apple. "Why, thank you" she thanked a corpse, bowing her head slightly as if to greet it. Took a bite.  
Spat it out over the body's mangled remains, and dumped it. She looked around at the destruction- her destruction. **

**"Let's see you top that, Sonnerset."**

**

* * *

**

**FEEDING-HOLE MASSACRE! **

**MULTIPLE ATROCIOUS MURDERS HAVE TAKEN PLACE-DETAILS ARE POOR AT THE MOMENT, BUT THE IMPERIAL LEGION THINK THAT IT IS POSSIBLY DUE TO MORE THAN ONE PERSON. THERE ARE AT LEAST TWO IDENTIFIABLE VICTIMS: A MISS AMALIA BENEVIRE AND A MR. STEFAN LAUCHEON. THE IMPERIAL GUARD CAPTAIN ITIUS HAYN HAS REFUSED TO COMMENT AS WELL AS HIS OTHER ASSOCIATES. WE CAN ONLY HOPE THAT THE KILLER CAN BE STOPPED- IF ANY IMPERIAL CITIZENS SAW SOMETHING, THEY ARE ENCOURAGED TO TALK TO THE AUTHORITIES.  
**


	11. 10: A New Day

Sorry! It has been a long time for an update, I know. But yeah, the story is being continued after a long bout of writer's block- but please remember this equation.

Story + Constructive Reviews = Better Story and Happy Author.

Basically, I need reviews as much as Tinkerbell needs her applause (Glee reference, I know! Had to try for the sake of it)

But yeah, let the story continue...

* * *

**Little flecks of light darted between the apple-green leaves, casting Mhezsura into a small shade. She was laid on the floor, sleeping on a bed of rotten leaves- the smell was warm to her nose. Inviting. Her black hair curled itself around broken twigs, snagging on some sharp outcrops- she was simply sleeping, under a tree. About a mile away from the Waterfront; the dirty, grey waters of the Rumare lapping onto the stony coast, the whistling of the silent forest heavy in her ears. Relaxing. It was about late morning, the sun slightly overcast with gentle, white clouds rolling across the bright sky- she mumbled in her sleep, desperate not to wake. She found her eyes opening, to her annoyance. And she sat up, wringing her hands over her aching eyes. Yawned. Stretched her fingers, smiling as she heard them crack. Stretched her long arms over her head, groaning as the muscles loosened. Looking around, Mhezsura sighed- an apple caught her eye. A shiny-red apple, with a crisp leaf spilled over it. She grabbed it and took a bite. Delicious. Apple-juice ran in little tinkles down her chin, marking her skin a light blue.**

**_Of all the strange places I've slep' in, this one actually of'ers breakfast. For free._**

**She got up, her back groaning loudly. The air smelt of baby-blue alkanets and cherry-red primrose- she sighed. And began to think. Began to think of what to do. Where to go. Who to see. The 'how' bit didn't concern her. She flicked her head around, behind her to see a small, grassy hill. Peppered with yellow, blue and pink flowers- she began her trek. Back to the south, where it was always warmer. **

**Always brighter.**

**

* * *

Lucien paced up and down- the snap of his black robes tossing and turning as he did so. Patience was never a virtue for him- **_then again, I am no saint, _**he thought as a wicked smile crept along his thin lips. ****Little steps vibrated in the air, along the concrete slabs; and bouncy blonde Antoinetta leaned against the arch doorway in front of him- the little cracks in the Charter wall telling stories beyond her years. Her cold, blue eyes stared into his defiantly- a little smirk attached as well.  
"Speaker, you lost the bet. Alor says he saw her... going along the river." she declared; a sprinkle of happiness in her voice. Lucien could remember the river- always in the summer, the Family would walk along the river to a small meadow. And have a simple picnic, with a little mulled wine and meat. He got lost in thought. "Uh, Speaker- don't mean to be rude but... I win! Come on, cought it up!" Antoinetta shrieked, holding out her hand- smile wretched over her little face.**

**God, how he wanted to crush it. See her surprised face as she slowly choked. Watch the life fade from her eyes. Instead Lucien took a bag out from a robe pocket, and dumped it in her hand. She shrieked and hugged him. Left him dumb-founded as she pranced away, like a little girl. **

**He shook his head. And began to pace again, across the width of the dingy room.**

**

* * *

**

**She felt eyes on her. Trained eyes watching her steps, as she scrambled across the steep banks of a large river. The water below churned, and collapsed over little rock outcrops plodded into the current. Her small hands tried to cling to the mud, soiling her leather suit deep-brown- green grass marred with mud, and no trees nearby. Oh well. **

**Trudging through the mud, it clung to her like a second skin; _solid land! _Cracked earth under her fingertips, she kicked her feet around in the sludge- struggling, she withdrew her Blade of Woe (tarnished with crusty, little red dots)and impaled it into a large fissure, about an inch from her head. Grunting, she pulled herself up- slithering through the mud, until her waist hit the earth. Like a feline, she grabbed her dagger and rushed to her feet. Finally, her journey could go ahead.**

**Except for that. In the distance, she could see the silhouette of a person. It came closer, revealing an Imperial face. With an iron shortsword withdrawn, in an open stance towards Sonnerset. Flaps of fur slapped in the breeze and a sneer ripped across his face. She smirked, taking a mock bow. He began to stride forward, the sword going up into the stormy sky. She lifted her head up, and ran for him. Her right hand at her side, her woe-blade stretched out. Crash of bodies, spill of blood. His shocked face, a backhand blow to the windpipe and down he went. Coughing then spluttering then nothing at all. Rummaging through his pockets, she found nothing. _Damn! Not even a gold piece._**

**Slap.  
The hit winded her, knocked her backwards. A warm, copper taste filed into her mouth and her nose felt numb. She snarled, rushing up; baring her teeth towards the attacker. Only to find a male corpse, slumped over the dead Imperial bandit. Smouldering. In death, she could see he was an Argonian- judging by what was left of his tail. Burnt scales with no colour, no flavour all over his body. _Wel', ain't tha' a dam' shame(!) Die young, and leave a barely ther' co'pse. Bu' I wonder... ah._**

**She had turned around, to meet a person in black. Dunmer, about her age more or less. Short, spiked, blue-black hair. Bloodshot eyes, and sharp features laced with boredom.  
"By the way, you can say thanks." he said, with a thick Cyrodiilic accent. An 'outlander' by all means. The way he carried himself around- he practically swaggered. _An effemina'e ou'lander. This can only be so good._ Then again, he was pretty cute. Not in a human way. In a Mer-like way, he was... interesting. Not her type though. She preferred something...tastier. _And not in tha' way.  
_"Thanks. Wha's your name?" Mhezsura said, lazily sweeping aside strands of her muddy-black hair. He stepped past her, walking along a little dirt path.  
"Banus Alor. You must be Mhezsura. Come with me." he beckoned with a gloved hand. **

**And Mhezsura followed.  
**


	12. 11: Cold Eyes

So, I've pretty much introduced every major character (that includes Schemer, as well) as well as a certain person in this chapter (of course, there will be more characters, like targets and such).

Let the story continue...

-Dreksler, out!

* * *

**Red eyes squinted harshly in the bright orange torchlight; a little itch crawled up her nose- she scratched it away with her muddy paw. A dark smudge surfaced on the dark skin, making it seem black. Little flecks of light sparkled in the wed mud- it was pretty in a strange way. Sloshing along, Mhezsura headed off into a quiet room. A pot of warm water squatted, under a torch in the centre of the room-hanging in an old, iron bracket bolted into a pillar. Made of snow-white concrete slabs. Near the pot, inlaid into the rough floor was a small drain- churning, as water gurgled deep below. It was the bathroom-of sorts- where she had put on her armor. For the first time. **

**She sighed. And began to wash herself clean. She worked the soapy, warm water into her hands- clear water turning black, as it trailed over her small frame. Worked it into her hair, tugging the mud out- her hair slicked in front of her face, water crashing down. She began to hum an old tune- a Dunmeri folk-song from her homeland. Morrowind- more specifically Vvardenfell. She shivered slightly. **

**But not from the cold. From the memories. **

**

* * *

**

**Meanwhile...**

**Antoinetta was impatient. Badly impatient. She was like Lucien, in that one way; they both couldn't be kept waiting. It killed them. She shivered slightly in her seat, as a familiar coldness crawled up her neck. She glanced behind her to be met with a familair face. A Breton face, with dark-brown shaved hair and slightly-curled lips. Sickly, pale skin failed to take any tone when the orange torchlight hit it- indeed, his beady eyes seemed to be black instead of ice-blue.  
"Hello, Bellamont" Antoinetta said through gritted teeth, pushing his large hand off her shoulder rudely. She turned away from him, in a huff- the rudeness didn't really surprise him. **

**Of course, he didn't know why most people just seemed to not like him- it was their loss. **_Let nobody else tell you otherwise, _**his 'conscience' told him. ****His hand had flopped to his side- over his dagger. **_Years of training does that to a person, _**he mused. He could feel Antoinetta getting tense around him; annoyance crackling between the strands of her straw hair. ****He skulked away, hands straight at his sides with a slight bow of his big head- until he heard a little song. **

**A hum. **_Definitely__ from Morrowind- a folk song?_**It echoed from a sturdy, oak door- it was commanding attention. It was louder than the patter of water Mathieu could hear- it was a keening sound. Almost bittersweet. The water stopped eventually but his sharp ears could detect the rubbing of cloth...**_against leather? Unusual. _**The song was cut short in his opinion, but then again he remembered the Dunmer people would perform medleys on their string instruments and flutes, at their fairs and those 'holy' days. According to a book Mathieu had read, they would get rowdy (or drunk...perhaps both) then proceed to gamble, drink, gamble and curse- in that order. How different that was to Breton celebrations, say on Flower Day- all the little children would get dressed up, and pick the spring blossoms whilst the elders, endowed with countless wrinkles and arthritic pains would sing- as much as their weak, croaking voices could handle. **

**He wanted to find the face, that had that light voice. That wondrous voice. **_Damn my curiosity!_

**

* * *

**

**Something tingled on Schemer's whiskers. Something delicious- the fresh smell of cooked apples whooshed up his nostrils. With a thick lash of boar-meat and cinnamon and poached egg; Schemer charged down the wide corridor like a lunatic. His claws began to slip on the stone, feet flying around wildly. His tongue rolled out, spittle glidng as he sprinted towards the eating hall.**

**The open door at the end of this corridor was his target- light spilled through, and the fumes danced across the stone slabs. Time seemed to slow as he ran- about fifty metres away from the door, he could see it began to close. He squeaked with anger and threw himself towards the door- teeth bared, and claws flashing with hate.**

**Slam. Dunk.**

**"What was that?" **

**"Just Schemer"**

**"Oh... all right."**

**

* * *

**

**Dinner. Food. _More like a bleedin' banque'. _A little tower of fruit- from red raspberry to warm mango- sat in the middle of the long table, stretched from one end of the eating hall to the other. At the opposite end, she could see a small window up high- and the last remnants of the day. A little glint drew her attention to the table again- spaced along the table there were metal plates. Next to each a little knife and fork- silver by the looks of it. At each plate, there was a seat- old chairs with rough, scuffed cushions. Everybody took a seat, chattering away with each other.**

**She felt lost. And hungry. But mostly lost.**

** Until a little hand waved at her- looking at it, she could see the friendly face of Antoinetta. And her pearly white smile. There was indeed an empty seat next to her, opposite Telaendril. 'Netta kept on beckoning and waving towards her, desperate to grab her attention. Mhezsura gave in and walked over- trailing her left hand against the stone-brick wall. She managed to squeeze past that vampire- _Vindra? Vinblah? It was a Vin-something. _His long fangs ripped through a leg of lamb, the body-juice thick around his chapped, skinny lips. Same old ponytail as usual she noticed. Sonnerset dumped herself into the seat, the softness startling her bones. She sank into it warmly. Comfortably. **

**And with an unannounced, silent bell, dinner had begun. A surge of hands rapidly reached out, viciously tugging food away from the plates. The plate of boiled saltrice was empty; only the juices left. Raspberries were endangered, some falling out- trying to get away from the massacre. It was confusing to Mhezsura- she had seen greed before. But this... was a motherfucking kick-ass type of greed she had never seen. Only ever read as a little girl, in the fairy-tales at those royal banquets. Antoinetta frowned **** as she could see the confusion in Mhezsura's fiery eyes. Antoinetta could tell she would need a little training in the art of deception- **_I mean, killing the target is good and all but Lucien always says it is far more enjoyable to string them along with lies. And then, stab them in the back. Maybe I could teach her something. Wouldn't that be great? _**She braved herself, steeled her nerves- and her small hand dove into the frenzy. Slap. Scratch. A little burn from Uvani- 'Netta glared at him. ****Back out of the fray, her hand managed to get out with a modest leg of lamb- bleeding seasoning onto the table- and a few sprigs of thick, green artichoke. **

**'Netta with a kind look plastered on her face, dumped the small meal onto Mhezsura's plate- turning her face away quickly, when Mhezsura stared up at her. She began her meal, quite nonplussed. As if nothing happened. **

**That is when they became best friends.**

**Mhezsura used her forefinger and thumb to delicately pick up the thick end of the little, silver fork- and stabbed it into the soft flesh of her meal. Squelch of juices over the plate, she ripped a small piece off- mixed it with the running sauce, impaled an asparagus and stuffed the food into her mouth. She chewed loudly on it. And enjoyed it.**

**Apart... from a deathly-pale man staring at her coldly. His blue eyes were frozen over- no emotion ran through them. A black hood was pulled over the top of his head- gloved hands elegantly cut meat into neat, little piles. Locking of her jaw, and her hackles began to raise. Until he did something strange. He didn't glare or spit or angrily jut his chin at her. Instead he smiled. A smile like Antoinetta's. Genuine. But still, no emotion in his eyes. That intrigued her. Made her want to know more.**

**And the trap sealed shut.  
**


	13. 12: New Interests

**Mhezsura nudged her bony elbow into Antoinetta's side to rip her attention away from a captivating piece of lamb, whose juices flowed and curled on her plate. "Who is tha' guy, ther'?" Mhezsura asked, in a small whisper as Antoinetta glared at her. 'Netta's blue eyes softened slightly, as she peered over Mhezsura's shoulder. Antoinetta drew her eyes back to Mhezsura, and lifted her eyebrows. Blank face. She waggled them. "I'm no' interested in him like that! " Mhezsura whispered, through gritted teeth. Antoinetta still had her small eyebrows raised, much to Mhezsura's annoyance. **

**"Urm... I suppose, you're Mhezsura?" asked a quiet voice, from across the table. Mhezsura's head flicked immediately- to meet the mysterious man's icy eyes. He froze, upon seeing the glint of her bloody eyes-her brows furrowed slightly. And he stook a gloved hand out towards her, across the brown desert of the table. She grabbed it and shook it firmly. "My name is Mathieu. Bellamont, but you can call me Mathieu. If you want."_ Poor guy, mus' hav flus'ered him already. Why's he looking at me? Oh. I hav' to say something. Um...wha'? Wha'?_  
"You know, ya could just call me Mhez. If you wan'" she replied, flashing a small grin. He smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.  
"I will call you Mhezsura- if you don't mind" he added hastly.  
"Of cours' no'" she said, taking her hand out of the grip they had forgotten they were in. Nobody had noticed their little chat, apart from Antoinetta. Who looked as if she had been holding her breath the entire minute or so.**

**Mhezsura laughed. Antoinetta laughed. And together, they laughed. **

* * *

**"You have a new contract, Miss Sonnerset" said Lucien, cracking his fingertips against the table top. Mhezsura twitched slightly as they rapped repeatedly. "You will have to eliminate Stefan Levefre. Here, is the contract details." He passed over a letter- with a red seal clasped over the front of it.**

**She read it. And grinned like a little fool.**

**"You understand what needs to be done?" Lachance asked, his drone boring into Mhezsura.**

**"By Oblivion, yes"  
**


	14. 13: Fame and Poisons

**_Bold and italic- Antoinetta's thoughts (may switch to other characters, will tell you)  
_**

_Normal and italic- Mhezsura's thoughts (throughout whole story)  
_

This type of writing is any other character's thoughts._  
_

**Everything bold is normal.**

**Any spelling 'mistakes' during Mhezsura's thoughts or speech represent the way she talks.  
**

* * *

**IMPERIAL LEGION NAMES THOSE RESPONSIBLE!**

**THERE HAVE BEEN MANY MYSTERIOUS SLAYINGS IN THE IMPERIAL CITY OVER THE PAST FEW WEEKS AND YET, UNTIL RECENTLY THE IMPERIAL LEGION HAS REFUSED TO RELEASE DETAILS ON THE VARIOUS CRIMES. OR EVEN WHO MIGHT BE BEHIND SAID ATROCITIES.  
THAT HAS CHANGED. FROM BEHIND THE DESK HIMSELF, ADAMUS PHILLIDA [CELEBRATED GUARD CAPTAIN OF THE IMPERIAL GUARD] REVEALS HIS THOUGHTS ON THE MANNER. WE HAVE THE EXCLUSIVE DETAILS BEHIND EVERY MURDER AND A POTENTIAL SUSPECT. **

**SO, WHO ARE THE VICTIMS OF THESE CRIMES? WHAT DO THEY HAVE IN COMMON? **

**_The victims of these crimes were mostly defenceless- in other terms, very easy to overcome quickly. There appears to be no apparent connection between each of the victims, except they have been male._**

**WAIT, WHAT ABOUT THE FEEDHOLE MASSACRE?**

**_The 'Feedhole Massacre' we believe is irrelevant to the rest of the crimes- evidence suggests that only either a small group of people or one single, highly-trained 'professional' would have the skill necessary. The murderer for the other cases, however, seems to be... reckless almost. _**

**HOW ARE THEY ALMOST RECKLESS? PLEASE EXPLAIN**

**_He [or she] are very theatrical. Each of their kills have an element of gore and shock. Almost like advertising. In the art of catching these types of murderer, they usually make one mistake. It only takes one mistake to catch them_**

**WHAT ABOUT THE MURDERER? ARE YOU ANY CLOSER TO IDENTIFYING THEM?**

**_I have ideas of who- or what- it might be. That's all I can say at the moment, unfortunately. _**

**WHAT ABOUT THE LATEST MURDER? CAN YOU TELL US WHO THE VICTIM WAS?**

**_Sure, I can tell you. The victim was called Stefan Levefre- another Imperial as people are being told. In fact, he was Breton; but that does little to diffuse the situation. The manner in which Mr. Levefre was killed was similar to Valen Dreth and Gaston Tussaud [the past two victims]- he was hung. And his upper body was nearly ripped off, from his legs. _**

**VERY NASTY INDEED. WHAT DOES THIS SAY ABOUT THE IDENTITY OF THE MURDERER?**

**_I'm afraid I can't release those types of details, for the safety of all citizens surrounded by the Imperial City walls. However, I can say that the killer wasn't strong enough to cut clean through the bone._**

**SO, IT COULD BE A WOMAN?**

**_Perhaps. _**

**AND SO WE HAVE ADAMUS PHILLIDA ON THE CASE. **

* * *

_How? How can they! S'wit, n'wah, xuth!_

**Antoinetta grew worried. She could see the storm, and yet she couldn't find any shelter from Sonnerset's anger. The Black Horse Courier grew slack in her hands; the corners dipping slightly in her porridge. Or sludge, as Uvani would say when it was one of his 'bad' days. She could see the anger build up in Sonnerset's cheeks. As could everyone else. **

**Lucien looked bored. As per the usual. **

**Bellamont had an eyebrow raised with concern.**

**Gogron looked alarmed.**

**Vincente was smirking along with Arquen- they both noticed that, and sort-of smiled at each other. In a creepy way.**

**M'raaj- D'ar was grinning.**

**Telaendril was the first to make a move. She reached a hand across, and lightly touched Mhezsura's shoulder. The Dunmer glared at her, the red-fires of her eyes burning into the wood-elf. She rejected Telaendril's attention, her face heating up. Shook her head. And stormed out of her chair.**

**That made M'raaj- D'ar grin even harder.**

* * *

**Later, 'Netta walked past a small room, on her way to the kitchens. It was her turn to cook- she had decided on a nice soufflé , stuffed with spices and garlic. Stifle and shuffle. She overheard something- _a sob?_ Her small ear pressed against the oak door, and listened.**

**To an orchestra of sadness.**

**She could hear the pitiful sobs, but they struggled to make sense to her. _What on Nirn? _Something propelled her to twist the doorknob, and forced her through the door ****frame. There, as a small bundle on the ground laid Mhezsura. Her little face had dark strains falling from the corner of her eyes. Her black hair was wild and untamed. Antoinetta sighed at the pitiful sight.**

**"You probably think I'm stupid, right?" Mhezsura said, curling herself up. She wiped her arm across her nose, her eyes gleaming slightly.  
"No, just misdirected" answered Antoinetta. Mhezsura looked startled. "The Dark Brotherhood 'accounts' people for business and entertainment and for no other reason. Especially fame" She looked sternly at Mhezsura, whose mouth was stuttering slightly. "The only reason I'm telling you this is because it is the truth" Antoinetta had crouched down beside her whilst she had been telling the truth. Mhezsura nodded.**

**"Come on. You can help me cook ********soufflé**s." Antoinetta stood up, reaching a hand towards the dark elf.  
"******Soufflé**s?" Sonnerset asked, taking her hand.  
"I'll show you."

* * *

**"No! You're supposed to melt the butter first!" Antoinetta shrieked. Mhezsura had added the white, snow flour to the iron pan too quickly.**  
**"Was I? Shit!" Mhezsura cursed loudly, making Antoinetta giggle. "Don't laugh a' me! It's not funny!" Mhezsura said, shaking her head as she banged the pan against a worktop, trying to get the flour out.  
"I can see you already failing alchemy- and somehow, there might be an explosion involved" Antoinetta said. A hard knock to her ribs nearly took the breath out of her. "Hey!" she laughed. **

**Mhezsura smiled brightly at her. _That's better- that's the Mhezi I know. _"So, can you tell me why?" Antoinetta asked, her tone serious.  
"Wha'?" Mhezsura asked back, her voice bouncing across the wooden worktop. She sat herself down on a tired chair, tucked in a small corner. Antoinetta grabbed an old chair- the wood cracked in places- and sat in front of her; her chest resting on it's frame.  
"Why you think that being in the Dark Brotherhood will mean fame." Antoinetta said simply, trying to keep her voice fairy-light. Mhezsura tried to look away but found she couldn't: **_I should jus' tell her.  
_**She tidied herself up, brushed her wrists free of flour and said:**

**"When I was a teen, I ust to live with me aunt an' uncle. Me aunt told me one day: 'You'll die and nobody will ever knew you even exis'ed. Nobody will even care. I cer'ainly won'. From tha' day, all I could t'ink about was tha'" Mhezsura finished, feeling numb. "But wha' you jus' said, abou' money and fun- I guess tha's more impor'ant."**

**Antoinetta smiled slightly at that. Mhezsura smirked a little.  
"You know'- Antoinetta began, in a conspirator's whisper- "Vincente is allergic to garlic. And M'raaj-D'ar absolutely despises having to eat it."Mhezsura's smirk widened quickly. She stood up and strode over to the counter. The counter was where all the food supplies were- especially her objective. Glistening like a treasure, the garlic cloves shone to her eyes. She ripped one off the stem, and began to break way the layers. Antoinetta had the sharp knife in hand. They grinned manically, as they mixed it into the creamy roux. Antoinetta chucked a fistful of cinnamon into the roux, folding the flavour over the wood spoon- the air stank of cinnamon and spice as it cooked in small portions.**

**Dinner. A full table and on each spotless plate was a steaming, light-brown******** soufflé** . **Vincente was surprised- **Antoinetta managed to cook something for a change. And it looks nice as well. **Mhezsura smiled politely at him. He snarled silently, at that pug-like face of hers.  
"You may eat my brothers and sisters." Antoinetta said simply, from her sat position at the head of the table. They tucked in eagerly- apart from Mhezsura, who seemed to be grinning too much. Vincente tried a small slice- the cinnamon had overpowered his sense of smell. A cold heat swarmed over him. **

Oh shit.

**He spluttered. And coughed up his food, over his plate. People began to try and drink the taste of garlic and cinnamon off their tongues, until they found the wine spiked with more garlic. An epidemic spread across the table- with only two people smiling.**

**Mhezsura and Antoinetta high-fived each other and giggled at Vincente's angry face.**

* * *

**"Poison. A deadly, efficient weapon that strikes silently," lectured Lachance. His face was shrouded in black, as he paced across the small hall. Mhezsura nodded. "You have another contract to do. One that requires stealth and technique- something the Legion won't suspect." He had leaned close to her, and whispered that in her ear. A cold shiver ran down her spine. "You are to kill Dark'eth Hare- a Redguard necromancer in the Imperial City, a staunch opponent to the next candidate for the Arch-Mage position. You are to poison him. How you do so, is up to you"**

**And he marched off, slipping a vial of green liquid into her hand. She walke din the opposite direction- with Antoinetta's words in her head. They made sense.**

**And for that, she was grateful.**

* * *

_Men! Show 'em a lit'le skin, and they trip over. It was easy to ge' in tha' Arcane Ooniversi'y__ place- a lo' of people around tho'. Mages. Never liked 'em- cowards I t'ink. But Lucyen needs this dun. __S'eps leading up to a posh en'rance, wit a mage ei'her side. I push throo' and come in'o tis small room_**- **_twu small benches lying opposi'e each o'her. Comfy carpet, I give 'em tha'. Dark'eth Hare- I asked round for him. Talked to a lit'le wood elf 'bout 'im. She said he was havin' dinner, in his quar'ers. Dumb betch told me righ' where 'e were- in the norph wing._

_Careful. Mus' ge' there. Slip poison. And leave. Simple. Righ'? 'Rong. I had to ge' past these guards. Then in'o his quar'ers wit'out Hare knowing. Ther' was a' lees' twu guards ou'side his door. Lured them away like a fish to bai' by thumpin' my boot's agains' the flur. They ran on over bu' I'd already gone behin' a pot plan'- sneaked pas' un' all. Easier tha' I though'. _

_Dark'eth Hare sa' at the table, wit his lunch. He didn' see me un'il I made my way across the room. He didn' seem upse' tho'- I tol' 'im, nuh, your dead. He said he was as wel'. I go' my poison ou', and someting came over me. Someting exciting. Someting nuw. I liked i'- I pulle' his head back gen'ly and poure' the poison down his throa'. His eyes faded to black. And I le' go of his head, and run._

_Now, I tink murder will never be the same.  
_


	15. 14: Beginning to Learn

**Dark'eth Hare was dead. His corpse had been found, head lolling over a full plate of food. His apprentice, Nivryna was grief struck. Whole days had passed and yet she couldn't see beyond her own tears. A guard told her her beloved master was poisoned, but that no struggle seemed to have taken place. Nivryna didn't believe that- she had evidence against Traven. She just knew that he was behind this...somehow. **

**The elections for the Arch-Mage position were fearsome; the two candidates: Traven and Hare were at each others' throats every day. And now Hare had undoubtedly lost because of the threat he posed to the University as a whole. Nivryna didn't see it as a threat; she saw it as a new age of magic. For new genius to flourish... and where old techniques and lessons were obsolete.**

**And she would make it happen, even it killed her.**

* * *

**"I have to say, Sonnerset- I heard about your last contract with the necromancer..." started Vincente, with an eloquent tone of voice as he beckoned her inside. She pushed past him rudely, and took a seat- the expression painted on her face was boredom, mixed with a little apprehension. "I'm impressed. I never thought stealth was in your repertoire" he continued, his voice snide. She just stared at him. "Well- I am here to teach you on the finer points of the Dark Brotherhood. Our rules, traditions and lessons must be carried on, don't you think?" Vincente continued, pacing around in front of the double doors.  
"I t'ink it migh' be in'eresting. Con'inue, Vampire" she said, after a long pause. Her voice had taken on a nasty sneer. Vincente sighed, and clenched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.  
"My name is Vincente, Mhezsura, and you would do well to use it." Vincente reminded her gently. A small knock erupted behind him, pattering on the oak- he opened it, with a small flourish of his left hand. **

**An Altmer walked in- her long hair with blonde highlights swished slightly, and she bowed to Vincente in a lady-like manner. Mhezsura's eyebrows lifted up at the old vampire.  
"Uh-uh- You ain' gettin' me to do tha'." Mhezsura said quickly; crossing her arms over in anger. The Altmer took a long stare at Vincente, and then at her. She reached a gloved hand out to the Dunmer, whose face grew more and more disdainful with each passing second. "I don' shake hands wit snobs," Mhezsura simply said, never looking directly at the Altmer's face.  
"My name is Arquen and I will be helping Vincente, make you more... civilized," Arquen goaded. Mhezsura glared at her.**

**"Let's begin with basic manners and the five tenets, shall we?" Vincente broke the silence.**

_O' Joy._

* * *

**End of the day. Mhezsura was spread out on her bed, trying to get to sleep. It was useless. Frustration coursed through her veins like poison, and her hands were gently fiddling with her dagger. A gloved finger tested the sharp point on the blade playfully.**** She sighed for the hundredth time.**** Who put her up for lessons? The fact that her 'teacher' was a vampire was bad enough- she also had to listen to the lectures of some randon Altmer snob. Called herself Arquen. Pretty name, she admitted. Shame it had to belong to an ugly face. ****She laughed a little at that. **

**Those five tenets rang through her brain, each following in a pattern that wrapped around her mind:**

_Tenet Number One: Never kill a brother or sister. Damn! Can' kill the vampire, the Altmer snob or the alleyca'; shit!_

_Tenet Number Two: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood's secrets to outsiders. Makes sense._

_Tenet Number Three: Always obey your superiors. This rule is shi' as well..._

_Tenet Number Four: Never dishonor the Night Mother... whoever the hell she is..._

_Tenet Number Five: Never steal from another brother or sister. Can' replace alleyca's po'ions with poison. Fuck!_

**And there were more lessons tommorow. **

_O'Joy!_


	16. 15: Three Months Later

Yes, I did take some liberties in regards to the Dark Brotherhood questline- this story is spread over three years [3E 430-433], so the introduction of certain contracts [like Whodunnit? and Roderick] will happen at different times. Also, there are some contracts that are just made up- like Dar'keth Hare or the Stefan Levefre contracts.

Let the story continue!

-Dreksler, out!

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Three Months Later...

* * *

**23. Second Seed, 3E 430**

**The date had thrown her slightly. It had been three months since that Dunmer showed up- three months since that Dunmer started her elocution and etiquette lessons. Already, her annoying habit for skimming over the 't' in words was gone- if only, her accent went with it. **

**Arquen sighed miserably. It was her turn to oversee Sonnerset's 'conditioning'- she cursed Antoinetta Marie under her breath. If it wasn't that the Breton was so damn persistent, Lachance wouldn't have set Vincente on the case. Well, Arquen had to get down- she might as well have fun with Sonnerset at least. That, and Vincente wouldn't be pissed off with her for a change.**

* * *

**Vincente Valtieri tapped his foot against the cold floor; normally, Lachance would be the first one to see him by now. To update him on assassin whereabouts, and information flows... and whether any informants 'dried' up. In which case, Valtieri waited patiently. Two-hundred years of existence taught him as much. **

**Whilst he was thinking about, he was supposed to be seeing a certain Dunmer soon. He thought Mhezsura was progressing well; considering she only had basic reading, writing and math under her belt. Soon, he felt, she would flourish into a cultivated assassin- capable of being a monster, and a person at the same time.**

**Three months had passed since she first arrived. She still had a long way to go to finish the first step of her 'conditioning'- he chuckled slightly, remembering how she used to sneer at him. On her face, a sneer still looked attractive. Not to him; he swore of women a long time ago.. but he saw how Mathieu looked at her sometimes. Wanton. He was a man, he had needs- but Maria should have been able to satisfy them. Right?**

**Not until Vincente see how Lucien walked down the corridor towards him, did he realise. **

**Maria L'Coeur was dead. He didn't need to see the body to know- he knew Lucien well enough, to see he was troubled. And now Vincente was worried. The traitor, that maggot, had gotten one of his students. And it took a lot of skill to do that. Lucien could see the realization on Vincente's gaunt face and yet, he still marched towards the vampire. "Vincente... one of our informants turned up dead. Again." Lucien started, his voice fluttering slightly. _My, my he is worried. _"And yes, Maria is dead." Vincente's face creased slightly with frustration.  
"The traitor got her, of course." Vincente said.  
"Of course. J'Ghasta found her, stripped and choked on the Orange Road." Lucien replied, the cold slice of brain talking once more**

**Vincente cringed.**

* * *

**Mhezsura Sonnerset was incredibly impatient, Arquen decided. That and she had the annoying habit of knocking her fingers against the wood table-top- crack crack crack. By Sithis, what had she done to deserve this? **Oh... well, I've murdered at least fifty-no-eighty people in my entire career... **She smirked at that fact, satisfied with herself. The Dark Brotherhood taught her that to doubt yourself, is to open yourself to weakness. "How are you, Mhezsura?" Arquen asked, in a fairy-light tone, looking at the Dunmer's face. The sharp contours of Mhezsura's face were slightly filled out. And her hair was sorted out into a long ponytail.  
"Fine." Mhezsura replied, her long finger-nails rapping on the table top. Arquen sighed.**

**The double-doors were pushed open quickly... by a panting Mathieu Bellamont,whose face glistened with sweat. Arquen merely stared at him; Mhezsura quirked an eyebrow up in confusion. He was panting so hard, he couldn't speak... so instead, he beckoned them to come with him desperately. Arquen began to look worried for some reason- **_What's up with her? What's going on? Well, easy way to find ou'-out. _**Mhezsura stood up quickly, and marched alongside Arquen as they rushed down the corridor. **

**A cry echoed across the whitewash walls, and the trio began to run- at a dead beat across the cobblestone floor. Finally, they arrived into the main entrance hall; the high, navel-like roof expanded high above them. Arquwn cried slightly in shock- Mathieu was shocked silent. Mhezsura looked on in numb confusion, as a corpse was carried into the Charter. Two men, their faces covered in black maskes set the corpse down and laid it across the floor. It was a young woman- her hazel hair spilled out across the floor, and her eyes were empty. Her lips were deathly blue- and there were marks along her perhaps-beautiful neck. Mhezsura could see Vincente stare intently at the corpse, his breathing stopped or shallow. Antoinetta was silently crying, as her shoulder carried Telaendril. Gogron, the unshakable Orc, was silent and numb-like her.**

**And the silence carried through the air, like a disease. The two, masked men stood aside and hung their heads low- forgetting about the pale-white sheet, laying on the sodden floor. Ocheeva stepped forwards, pushing through the crowd- Lucien stared at her, numbly. The Argonian took a small, gold coin- shining slightly in the gloom- and crouched down beside the carcass, the coin clenched between her gloved fingers. Schemer pattered over to her, smelling her fingertips- she laid a hand on his head, and laid the coin to rest on the body's forehead. **

**"A payment for the ferryman." Ocheeva said, indifferently with a slither on her tongue. She picked Schemer up in her hands, and he sprawled over her chest. Mhezsura looked coldly at the corpse, wondering...pondering... thinking. She shook her head, and marched away along with Ocheeva. The crowd began to trickle away like water.**

* * *

**"Why can't I have a contract?" Mhezsura asked, her temper rising as Lachance just pushed past her. "Excuse me! I was talkin'-talking to you. Why can't I have a contract?" she began to follow him, down the corridor. People turned their heads towards her, some with a noticeable scowl [aka. M'raaj-D'ar] and others looking sympathetic [aka. Telaendril and Antoinetta]. Lachance stopped and turned towards her, with a glare on his face. "Is it because of that dead woman?" Mhezsura asked, carelessly, with anger.  
"That dead woman was highly trained, by not only Vincente but by me as well. You, on the other hand are not." Lachance quipped. He smirked at the expression of shock on her face.**

**Mhezsura gasped in indignation. And her eyes wettened slightly- **_stop that! Don't be such a child: you could prove him wrong. _**She turned away, and strode down the corridor. M'raaj-D'ar snickered slightly, his little laughs a prick in her ear but she carried on... regardless.**

**To find Vincente.  
**


	17. 16: Manipulation

**Lucien stared at Vicente, in surprise. His forehead creased over slightly in thought- he mulled over Vincente's idea for a minute. He gave an affirmative nod, much to Vincente's delight; Lucien had never seen Vincente smile before. And it chilled him, slightly to the bone.  
"I hope you know what you're doing, Vincente." Lachance said, in a cool voice.**

* * *

**"You have a contract, Miss Sonnerset," Lucien said across the table, in a jaded tone. "As do you Antoinetta. In fact, you will both be working together." He paused, waiting for the inevitable squeal... and it came loudly from Antoinetta's lips. It came as a sharp pain to Mhezsura, who clamped her hands over her pointed ears. Lucien's face cringed slightly, earning a snicker from Arquen nearby. "You are to send Galus Venturia to Sithis- his corpse must be easily found, however...'-he paused for effect-' you will have to get past his contingent of guards." Mhezsura cracked a small smile at him- he coldly walked away. She merely dropped her lips down, and waltzed away with Antoinetta [whose excited babbles began to get on her nerves... already.]**

** Antoinetta grabbed her gloved hand, and led her away- shoving along the corridor, and into a small room; the walls cloaked in swaths of blood-red cloth. A rickety bed squatted in a corner, shrouded in black cloth. On the ground, in front of her, was a loose circle of plump pillows. Next to the bed, a grim armoire- made of black, pure wood. Antoinetta ran towards the armoire, her steps muffled by the thick carpet underfoot. Clack. Click. Boom. The armoire spilled open, rusty mechanics tugging down a solid, sycamore board... laden with weapons. Mhezsura's eyebrow quirked up. Antoinetta kicked the bottom of the wardrobe, and out popped two drawers. Full of clothes. The blonde Breton dropped to her knees, and grabbed a small, black dress-designer- and chucked it at Mhezsura. **

**"Over there." Antoinetta pointed, towards a shutter in the background. Mhezsura walked over, gently unbuckling her leather straps. She shut the shutters around herself, and slipped out of the leather- peeling off her second skin was harder than she thought. And she felt exposed, as her dark skin trembled with the cold; and she slipped the black, party dress over her head. It was flimsy, to say the least. A slight corset at the waist, but nothing too seductive- just a whole lot of chest and legs. She stepped out, to see Antoinetta in a posh one-piece corset dress- **_blood red of course._

**"We ready to find Galus Venturia?" Antoinetta asked, tightening her lace gloves. **

**"By Oblivion, yes."**

* * *

**The Imperial City, Market District. 25. Second Seed, 3E 430.**

**It was about midday, in the bustling market square- the Imperial flags flapping high above the stalls. Smoke hung high in the spring air; and the clash of colours everywhere was enough to make her eyes blind. Antoinetta took her head, and led her through- taking confident steps, instead of the scared, baby-steps Mhezsura was taking.  
"Over there! The informant..." Antoinetta gasped, in a low whisper- Mhezsura's head twisted around to meet her gaze. And all she saw was a weedy Imperial- **_or Nord_**- whose left hand was slack... and containing a suspcious bottle. Mhezsura quirked an eyebrow at 'Netta, but Antoinetta hushed her doubts. They loitered over, making their movements seem natural.**

**"Galfri, how are you?" Antoinetta asked, sweet honey pouring along the words. Galfri, a weak excuse for a Nord, began to back away slightly until his slumped back hit the wall. Mhezsura looked around for onlookers, whilst Antoinetta grabbed the Nord's neck in her hands.  
"Clear."  
"Good... Now, Galfri we can do this the easy way or not. Easy way: you tell us where Galus Venturia is and we go. Hard way: we'll rip out your fingernails until you do. Pick." Antoinetta delivered, her little face warped madly. Her cheery-blue eyes were cold and cruel. Galfri shook his large forehead free of sweat. and began to tremble slightly.  
"You can find Venturia in his house, in the Temple district." Galfri said, with a slight shake to his harsh voice. **

**"Why, thank you. Have a nice day." Antoinetta warped back into her sweet-natured self. And pranced away, with Mhezsura's hand in hers.**

* * *

**"Oh fuck." Mhezsura said, breaking the silence around them. Antoinetta sheathed her sword, and held it aloft- she pointed it at Phillida's throat. Phillida looked amused.  
"That isn't going to help you, assassin." Adamus said, thickly as two Imperial guards came up from behind him; brandishing heavy, steel axes. A thick plume of red feathers decorated their helmets, and their armor was polished white. **

**The room began to suffocate her- behind her a large bookcase, with a small window above. Bright summer light... **_hopefully not the last I will see. _**Antoinetta snarled at Phillida- his bold forehead lifted with laughter. A brown mess of hair sat on top of his head, with a few grey hairs streaking through in small lines. Mhezsura stared to her left at the dead Imperial, near her feet.  
"He wasn't Venturia, was he? He was just the decoy." Antoinetta said, realization hitting her suddenly. Mhezsura looked over to her; the breeze twirling in her small, black folds of fabric.**

**"Well done, Miss Marie'- 'Netta flinched harshly-'but I think you regret trusting your informant" Phillida said darkly, his green eyes flashing in their deep-set sockets. Antoinetta bared her teeth, like a feral animal, and took a slow step forwards- tightening the grip on her silver blade with another hand.  
"Don'-Don't, Antoinetta. It's what he wants" Mhezsura's voice was laced with contempt. Antoinetta's ear pricked up, and thought came over her small features. She took a step back, next to Mhezsura.**

**Adamus smiled.**

* * *

Cliffhanger, much?

Review for more chapters.**  
**


	18. 17: Faults

**Antoinetta stared at Mhezsura, with a quiet pleading skimming through her pupils. Mhezsura ignored her, and glared at the smug Imperial in front of her. **

_This is Adamus Phillida? Wow. Not as impressive as the papers said. But still..._

**"What is it, Dark Elf?" said one of the Imperial guards, with the red plumes. Mhezsura's head flicked to his face, the sweet sashay of her raven-hair swishing silently. The guard had dark-brown eyes, and she could see a few flecks of brown hair underneath his helmet.  
"Antoinetta'- Mhezsura nudged her gently-' didn't you tell me something the other day? A 'law' of some sort?" Mhezsura's voice was like a breeze...soothing.  
"Um... oh! We demand the names of the arresting officers in this case, seeing as we are citizens of the Empire." Antoinetta declared, with a glare aimed towards Phillida. **

**Phillida lifted his head, sighed, and shook his head. A quiet order was given. The other Imperial guard [a blonde- **_blondie_**] stepped forward. His dark eyes glimmered from under his helmet.  
"Ilben Notorius"  
Blondie took a step back and raised his axe once more. The brunette one [**_brownie_**] stepped forward; sweat clenching around his furrowed brow.  
**

**"Galus Venturia" Brownie said. Mhezsura coldly smiled- and a murderous glint shined in her eyes. Adamus's smug grin lowered, when he saw that. _Oh fuc-_**

**Galus gurgled, as his throat poured blood on the floor. Adamus snarled, and slashed his sword quickly through the air. He missed his targets.**

**And in his fury, he screamed loudly into the ceiling above. **

* * *

**Twist. Tumble. Turn. Stomach lurching, Mhezsura landed-harshly- onto a cobbled street. The stones cut into her skin slightly, making her wince a little. She hadn't felt pain in a long time; three months in fact.  
"Come on. Get up." urged Antoinetta, the blonde hairs quivering on her skull. Mhezsura wiped her face, brushing away the dirt, and took Antoinetta's hand. **

**"We need to find that infor- whatever you Westerners say." Mhezsura said decisively. Antoinetta merely nodded her head, as they walked down the street, arm-in-arm.  
"And what do you plan on doing to Galfri?" Antoinetta asked, barely containing the gleeful happiness that clenched her heart.**

**"I'll think of something"**

* * *

**SKOOMA ADDICT FOUND DEAD, IMPERIAL LEGION PRESUMES OVERDOSE**

**AT MIDDAY, THE BODY OF GALFRI LEIFFESON WAS FOUND IN THE MARKET DISTRICT CANALS. FROM INITIAL REPORTS, IT IS PRESUMED THAT MR. LEIFFESON HAD OVERDOSED ON SKOOMA AS A RESULT OF HIS SISTER [ARIANA] DYING LAST YEAR [check issue 122 for 429]. THERE WERE HOWEVER NO WITNESSES TO THE SUICIDE OR OVERDOSE, SO THE LEGION AS ALWAYS SHALL BE INVESTIGATING.**

* * *

**"As ever, Antoinetta, you surprise me with your poisoning talents" Vicente spoke eloquently, never taking his gaze from the engrossing novel laid on his lap. Antoinetta sighed, as she began to loosen her corset. In a flash, Vicente was behind her carefully picking the laces free.  
"So... any new messages from Lucien?" Antoinetta asked, breezily.  
"That's Speaker Lachance to you, Murderer. And no- he is currently busy in Anvil" Vicente replied stiffly, slipping into custom as always.  
"With Arquen? I didn't know he liked Altmer, but still..." Antoinetta said, in a gossipy voice. No answer from Vicente. She sighed, as the corset fell off her waist.**

**Antoinetta lost the lace gloves, and dumped them onto the cracked table-top. She rested on a chair, hoisting her legs up onto the table- her black heels glistening in the torchlight. Vicente stared numbly at her, and numbly at the sleeping frame on the bed behind her.  
"How did she do?" Vicente asked, pointing at a sleeping Mhezsura.  
"Not as bad as expected, if that's what you mean" Antoinetta replied, shaving her nails with the edge of her dagger.  
"But?" Vicente pushed the point. Antoinetta conceded, with a groan.  
"She's gullible, uncontrollable and... that's about it" Antoinetta mumbled.  
**

**"Perfect"  
**


End file.
